Legacy Of Wisdom
by DrMagnus1850
Summary: Meet Delaney Gray; the rogue, purple haired, owl fluent resident of Camp Half Blood. Delaney is no demigod and, as far as he is concerned, absolutely not a hero. Chiron, however, appears to have other ideas about the future of this particular camper.


LEGACY OF WISDOM

_Chapter 1: Delaney Grey - Unclaimable_

The centaur rose; the full expanse of his half man, have equine form filling the undersized porch. Thunder rippled over his countenance, an uncharacteristic look of rage hardening his kind features.

"This is a mistake, Gray!"

The young boy, seated calmly across the table from him, rose, his pallid skin glistening in the twilight.

"Is it? I don't belong here, Chiron. I never have. I leave at dawn."

With those final words, the slim, black clad adolescent turned on his heel and descended the wooden steps, a lock of violet hair spilling over his grey eyes.

"Gray? Delaney!?"

Walking from the manor house, Delaney Gray pretended not to hear the shouts of his tutor; he refused to acknowledge the mutterings of a miserable wine deity, and he forced himself to ignore the eyes of a dozen onlookers who had gathered to observe the commotion.

As was his modus operandi; Delaney Gray walked alone.

Almost.

A soft _hooting_ trilled in his ear; with momentary pause, Delaney threw out his right arm, a small, soft heap fluttering from the shadows to perch on the proffered limb. The owl winked an intelligent, golden eye, causing a slight smile to prick at her partner's hardened mouth.

All eyes were on him as he strode through camp. He shouldn't have been surprised, after all, gossip spread through Camp Half Blood like wildfire. Delaney noted the odd whisper... he didn't have to hear them, to know what they were saying; the loner kid's finally going rogue.

Well... maybe he was.

He reached the last in a long line of cabins; the only without the symbol of a Greek god or goddess etched above the doorframe. _The Unclaimed_, was the official title of his abode, or, as a particularly nasty batch of Ares' brats liked to call it: _The Unclaimable_. Delaney suspected a child of Athena had devised that term; polysyllabic words were not exactly a specialty of the war god's spawn.

A few years prior, it had been decreed law that _all_ gods claim their demigod children. This cabin was, as Chiron had explained, for new arrivals to the Camp. In case a godly parent was, for whatever reason, preoccupied, and unable to claim their child for a day or two.

Delaney Gray had been claimed less than an hour after his birth; frightening a member of hospital staff half to death with a large, glistening bronze owl hovering momentarily above his sleeping head.

He had been _re_claimed upon his arrival at the camp the summer before, solidifying his affiliation with Athena, the goddess of wisdom.

Yet he was forbidden from entering the _Athena_ cabin; no, that wasn't the right word... _rejected_, by its inmates.

After all, Delaney was no child of Athena; he was no demigod at all.

He slammed the cabin door, giving it a kick when it threatened to reopen itself. Who cared about the Athena kids? He liked it better on his own anyway. Pre-empting his intent, the miniature owl hopped gracefully from her owner – it was more of a partnership, really – and perched delicately atop a stack of paperbacks, piled on a nearby desk.

Delaney dropped onto a bed, the only one in the cabin to have been used in... two, three years. He closed his eyes, mind wandering back to the day his parents had dropped him at Camp for the summer; he had been excited, despite himself. Until...

"You're a Legacy." The centaur had told him, like it was a bad grade on a History paper – something he didn't get.

"And that is?" He had been vaguely aware of the campers, gathering about the porch of the Big House.

"It means you're third, fourth, fifth generation. It means that your grandmother, or you great grandmother, or you great-great grandmother, was Athena. We have no way of knowing how long ago she featured in your family." Chiron had continued, very aware of the awkward silence. "Half of the population of America has godly heritage."

Delaney had looked about the Camp, uncomfortable with the eyes on him. "So why aren't there more people here?"

That was when the truth had come out. _Legacies_ are not claimed. In fact, only a Legacy with a godly parent; a demigod legacy like the _legendary_ Frank Zhang, is even aware of their gifts.

In short; Delaney was an oddity. He could talk to owls before he could talk to people. He spoke French fluently, despite having never visited Europe and was, to quote a particularly unassuming Home Room Teacher:_ "An artistic prodigy."_ Last but not least, his unassailable wisdom rendered him quite capable of solving a televised mystery a good forty minutes before _Columbo_ even got close.

He was the only non-demigod Legacy to be claimed; and that made him different, it made people afraid of him.

"Ordinarily," the memory of Chiron chided, "a Legacy has insufficient magical aura to alert monsters to them. They can't even see through the mist. But you..."

He had stroked his beard extensively, which hadn't made Delaney any less uncomfortable. Especially considering that, on his arrival at camp, the fifteen year old _Legacy_ still bore the scar from a recent manticore encounter. The centaur had reached for the large sketchpad, open, and clutched protectively under Delaney's arm. He remembered tightening his grip, growling something about privacy. Chiron had never pressed the issue; besides, he had seen enough.

"You, Delaney Gray, see everything."

A loud, inconsiderate pounding on the cabin door tore the young Legacy from his unintentional slumber. He growled, glancing at the time on his iPhone. 8:00am.

"_Dammit!"_ Well, so much for the 'leaving at dawn' idea.

The pounding continued.

A _"Yo! You up?"_ Followed suit.

Mainly because he was intrigued by the _'yo-er'_ Delaney hopped from the bed, snatching the doorknob in a slender hand, and wrenching the door open.

"What!?"

Perhaps, he realised, a moment too late, the attitude was unintentional.

"Hey man! It's us!"

Perhaps not. "And it's me." The _'and who are you?'_ hung in the air, unsaid.

Facing Delaney were two Campers. The impatient knocker, a fairly thick set, cheerful looking boy with cropped blonde hair beamed, spinning the wheels of his cradled skateboard with one hand.

"I'm Red, this is Bird." The second visitor, a female camper with a bored expression and a tight ponytail, pushed her way to the door, jabbing a thumb at Skater Boy.

"_Dude."_ Skater Boy hissed. "It's _Hawk_, like _Tony Hawk_, not _bird_!" He sighed, defeated. "Never mind, name's Ross, dude. You're, like, Derek, right?"

"Delaney."

"So, Del?" Skater Boy, _Ross_, grinned, as though this was some idyllic abbreviation.

"No. Delaney." He turned away, grabbing books from a vacant bed and shoving them into a suitcase. A shrill _hoot_ drew his attention to the desk.

"Minnie? Don't touch that!" And there it was. The temper, the arrogance. The 'yelling at people who don't deserve it.' Whatever, she deserved it.

Standing by the desk, the poorly named _Red_ had grasped a loose sketch in her hand, proffering it to Skater Boy. She flinched, as Delaney snatched it from her, folding it in half. The offended demigod shot the Little Owl – alarm system an evil look.

"Dude, like, take it easy. You're wicked good."

"Why are you here?"

Red and _Ross_, no, Skater Boy was more appropriate, were taken aback. Apparently, the rumours about the angry loner in the reject cabin had missed them.

Red was the first to respond, perhaps, Delaney noted, a little embarrassed by his eruption. "Chiron wants to see us."

"Well he isn't here."

"Us!" She pointed at all three of them in turn. "As in, you too!"

Delaney tore open a Pop Tart, breaking off a piece and flicking it into the air. "Minnie." The owl performed a little hop, catching it in her tiny beak, hooting happily. "Sorry, we're off. Say... say goodbye to Chiron for me."

A soft _hoot_ ensured a second piece of Pop Tart became airborne.

"Yeah, he said you'd say that." Skater Boy scratched his chin, grinning. "Said to tell ya that if ya still want to leave afterwards, he'd call a cab. Pay for it himself."

Delaney swallowed. This wasn't good. It meant Chiron thought he could convince him to stay; if he was _that_ sure...

"Unless a rich kid like you figures he doesn't need any help." The acid in Red's tone came as a surprise to both boys; Delaney almost, _almost_, felt guilty for hurting her feelings.

He sighed. "Fine. I'm late anyway. Min?" The owl blinked twice, before closing her eyes. "Okay... I'll just leave this here." He snapped the Pop Tart in two, shoving one piece into his mouth, and planting the second on the desk.

Shoving his iPhone into trouser pocked, Delaney ushered the uninvited guests from the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

"You know you're not allowed a cell phone, right?" The smirk was evident in Red's tone; yep, he'd never seen this girl before this morning, and already he'd made an enemy of her.

"Yep." The silence hung in the air as they descended the wooden steps. "Not a demigod; rule don't apply." She already hated him, he may as well enjoy it.

The walk through Camp was... awkward. People gawped. A few, training near the eating area, stopped their parries to ensure they were, in fact, correct. The purple haired, _Unclaimed_ kid was outside, during the day, with people.

"So... Mini? Is that 'cos he's so small?" Skater Boy, having dropped his board to the ground, rolled casually along.

"_Minnie_, is short for _Minerva_." Delaney awaited the gasp of disapproval at the mention of a Roman goddess. It never came. "She's a Little Owl; that's her species," he added, figuring Skater Boy wasn't much of an ornithologist.

Gravel crunched underfoot. Suddenly, the manor house seemed further away than ever. They paused, in unison, to check both ways before crossing the archery range. The archers nodded, lowering their bows momentarily, and they began to cross.

An ominous _twang _echoed through the clearing, followed directly by the cry of: "Watch out!"

Apparently, Delaney noted, one of the archers hadn't been paying attention. An arrow shot through the air toward them, moving with impossible speed; reacting without thinking, Delaney spun around the front of his early morning visitors, plucking the weapon from the air, millimetres from Red's ear.

She gulped. Skater Boy uttered a curse in slang. Delaney flicked the arrow to the ground, where it landed with perfect precision. "Shall we?"


End file.
